Exodus
by Medie
Summary: it is the end of the frakking worlds...for the common peoples' challenge
1. Chapter 1

itle: Exodus  
Author: M.  
Author's Contact Info: or Rating: PG-13  
Genre: alternate universe, challenge response  
Pairings (if any): nothing canon  
Characters: OCs  
Summary: It is the end of the frakking worlds...  
Author's Note: For the Common People Challenge. Thank you **minisinoo** for your help too. Invaluable both of you! I should mention, I keep picturing Lena Olin when I think of Delia.

"Exodus"  
by M.  
-----  
Themiscrya is burning.

The capital city of the mighty Amazon nation is burning. There are no flames, no smoke, no fire but still, the city burns. Warriors, their husbands and children rush through the streets mutely. All clutching whatever precious belongings they can carry. The Cylons have attacked, the colonies are falling into shambles, their citizens fleeing in whatever they can find, it is the end of the fraking worlds.

"Delia," the raspy voice from the bed behind her brings the Queen's attention away from the window and her maudlin thoughts. Holding her turmoil in, the Amazon moves to her husband's bedside to smile at him. Taking his hand in hers, she kneels beside him without thought to appearance. Amazon queens do not kneel before a man, any man, but she does not care. Instead, she holds his hand to her breast and waits for him to speak even though she knows already what he will say. He's said it before.

"You need to leave," he entreats in a hoarse whisper. It's all he can manage in these latter days. The illness that plagues him has long since stolen his strength from him and left a hollowed out husk where the love of her life had once been. She hates to see him this way... yet she cannot imagine losing him either. Even though, she knows, the moment is at hand, chosen for them by the Cylon invasion. "You can't wait, Delia. They...need you."

He is right, they both know, the transports were leaving as fast as they could and the Cylons knew nothing of mercy. Equality between the Amazon nation and the Colonies has finally been achieved, if only in the mutual slaughter of their peoples. They flee side by side but unlike the Colonials, the Amazons are long used to such. Their conflict-filled history with the Colonials has taught them nowhere is home. Not truly. Home is land and cities that can be, and have been, ripped away in a matter of seconds.

It was strange that it was the Cylons now. Delia has always dreamt the cities would be stolen from her people not by attack but by the slow, cold encroaching of the Colonial democracy. This bloody rain of death from the sky...

It's almost too much to bear.

Though they have lived in relative peace in cities like Themiscrya for centuries, scattered amongst the twelve colonies in such a fashion the Quorum has deemed them 'harmless', the Nation knows only too well the hostility and mistrust which still lurks. They know the diaspora of the Amazons is meant to keep them from regrouping, united under their Queen, and returning to the battles of old when the Colonies were young and still fragmented. They had always known they would some day have to fight for their homes once more. They have always prepared for the eventuality of fighting, or fleeing...

Still, in times past when Delia had permitted herself the thought of leaving her beloved city, of an Amazonian exodus, she never for a moment pictured all of humanity joining her people in their flight. And yet, they are. More by the minute. She has received reports of Colonial citizens fleeing to the supposed safety of Themiscrya's fortified walls, hoping the Amazons would offer them shelter for which they have no right to ask.

She has given permission to save those that they can but she knows for as much as they can do, it will never be enough.

"The last transport hasn't left yet, husband," she assures quietly, a detached part of herself observing how formal her tone has become. It's a defense she often uses when her emotions are at a breaking point. It amuses her in an obscene fashion. She had thought herself long past that point. "We'll be leaving with it, I promise."

"No." Tyron argues as much as he can, shaking his head in a slow, agonizing motion which is a sick parody of disagreement, "I'm not going with you, Delia and you know that." He swallows, a dry and pointless exercise and she reaches for the ever present cup of water. Helping him to drink, she brushes a hand over his hair, noticing how thin and sparse it has become. Wasting away like the rest of him. She is careful to make sure he drinks slow. It is both an act of mercy and calculation. She needs the precious few moments to think, to marshal her thoughts and arguments into what she already knows is a pointless case. He will stay. He will die. He is days, hours, away from death. Every moment takes him a step closer to the Veil of Tears and, she hopes, the Elysian Fields which lie beyond. There is no changing his fate. Even if the Cylons had not attacked, her husband would be dying still and she cannot justify taking a place on a transport for him and denying a healthy, living person their life. The young and the healthy are the priority now if they have any hope of survival. She knows she must think of the survival of the Nation and she has made decisions accordingly.

Even now, in the streets below and on all the Colonies, the elders of the Nation are helping their younger sisters and their families flee. It is their sacrifice to make and Delia had no need of making it a command or royal decree. She knows her sisters well, they would do this no matter what she said. It is the sacrifice they must all choose and even the Queen of the Amazons must fall under its weight.

Though it means leaving her dying husband behind. It is her only choice but she rebels from it still. The woman behind the Queen is balking at the suggestion. They have had a good life. He has raised her eldest daughter well despite her parentage, he has given her three more strong and healthy daughters and he left his beloved city behind to live at her side. She knows only too well that for men to leave the Colonial life behind is not an easy choice. Not for any man. Not even a poet like her beloved Tyron. She has personally witnessed the rejection of his family, seen the pain it has caused him. She swore an oath upon her very life that she would never do so to him and part of her hopes, even now, that they die in this attack. It is a thought she keeps secret for it shames her... but still she cannot erase it. Even as she commits the very sin she hates them for.

Lowering her head, she presses a kiss to his forehead, crying out to her goddess in a plea. Without Artemis' strength, she cannot imagine finding the strength to move from this place. To walk away from him.

"Delia..." Voice stronger, Tyron tries again. His hand grasps hers as tightly as he can manage. It is a frail and brittle grip but it still conjures up images and memories of a thousand touches and embraces. She looks down and she doesn't see his hand as it is, wrinkled and gnarled with disease, instead she sees it as it was when she met him. Strong and capable. How she longs for those days and with the same breath curses the Cylons. He will die alone and they are to blame. They and the Colonials. She knows it is a bitter thought but she sees the Colonies' weakness, the lowering of their guard, as the true deathblow. The Cylon attack is merely the inevitable result and she cannot escape the angry thought.

"Delia, you need to go." Her husband's quiet plea draws her from her rage and she is surprised to see him smiling at her. Amusement lurks in the smile and it is something she has not seen in him in months. "If Galactica is all that is left... Adama will need the Nation." He smiles just a little more and it's almost his old smile, not a ghost of what once was. "The Nation needs its Queen."

She holds in a snort of disdain at the mention of the old Battlestar. She will not defame Adama. Of all the Colonials she has had the duty to study, he has never been one worthy of her scorn. Many of them are. But her usual biting comments are kept from him. If she could choose one of them to face down in battle it would be him. Of all of them, she considers him a worthy adversary but, alas, it seems they are condemned to be allies. Or, in truth, she is condemned to be in his debt.

It's that moment that makes her think she died in the Cylon attack. For this must be Tartarus and Hades is torturing her with such a fate. She needs the Colonials more than they need her and the thought burns like the fire consuming their worlds. White hot and as strong as a thousand suns. The gods, it seems, enjoy mocking her.

"Highness." A young voice interrupts their final moments and she knows that those moments are at an end. No one would dare disturb her, not even this young daughter of one of her ministers, for anything less. They respect their Queen but they fear her anger nonetheless and when it falls to her husband, Delia's anger is fierce and easily provoked. "Your transport...it's ready."

She is dismissed with a curt nod and all but runs from the room, Delia suspects she'd be a thousand times more willing to face down every Cylon in existence than look her queen in the eye again. If she could summon a care, the thought would trouble her. Instead, she looks at her husband's face for the last time. "I don't want to go."

"I don't want you to." He responds, touching one lock of her hair.

It is with reluctance that she stands, drawing a slow and steadying breath, and pushes a weapon into his hand. "If one of those..." Words fail her and she falls silent.

Tyron grips the weapon with the scant strength remaining to him and smiles, this time it is a ghastly echo of his true smile, it is a smile which will haunt her. "Go."

She summons the strength for one last kiss then she is gone to the waiting Amazons at the door and pretends not to hear the shot.

Finis


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Exodus  
Author: M.  
Author's Contact Info: PG-13  
Genre: alternate universe, challenge response  
Pairings (if any): nothing canon  
Characters: OCs  
Summary: it is the end of the frakking worlds...  
Disclaimer: Own Delia, Leda, and company. The setting? Not so much.  
Author's Note: For the Common People Challenge. Thank you Varyar for the beta and help! This is the 2nd in what may be a 5 part series. (5 amazons, 5 stories) In keeping with the Lena Olin as Delia theme...Mia Maestro is who I envision for Leda.

"Exodus"  
by M.  
----------  
They are running out of time.

The seconds are ticking away in the back of her mind, seeming to drain faster with each second that goes by, and she catches herself wiggling her foot as nervous energy pushes free. It's an old habit, one she hasn't caught herself in since her early teens and she reflexively tucks her leg beneath her to still it. She cannot afford even the least of distractions as she pilots the ship over the city. They are running out of time, the Cylons will not delay much longer. She knows intimately that it is only a matter of time before they realize the Amazonian defensive systems are isolated from the Colonials systems and turn on them.

She can only pray to the goddess they are gone and their remaining sisters safe beneath the city before that happens.

Wind buffets the small transport and she has to fight to keep it aloft. It is a moment spent struggling with sluggish controls before she realizes that it was not wind. Rather, it was the concussive force of an explosion and a message from the goddess herself. The Cylons are getting closer.

Behind her, she hears a shout of, "Highness!" and she turns her attention from the controls to see Maren in the cockpit door. The older woman points and she turns to look in that direction and sees what the warrior has already seen. Struggling through a field toward Themiscyra's fortified walls is a man. A local farmer they've had dealings with.

She isn't surprised to see him. Few people are willing to make their home near Amazon cities, choosing to believe the lies of their parents and their government. The ones who did were often forced into it. The land near the cities is hard and crop yields small, it sells cheaply and oftentimes it is all some farmers can afford. They settle near the cities because they have no choice and are always surprised by the hospitality of their Amazon neighbors. The man running toward the city is no exception. Demen's crops have been served many times at her mother's table and, before the death of his wife the winter before, his family had dined with them.

Even at their altitude, she can see he is carrying his daughter in his arms and his young son is keeping pace at his side, if only just. She knows without question he is not seeking escape for himself. She also knows they don't have time to stop. The transport is full, destination is an Amazon ship in orbit, to the point she is barely able to keep it in the air. They can't stop but she makes the decision to anyway and no one protests the landing. She shouldn't be surprised by that but, despite her pride in her people, she still is.

When the transport touches down, Demen alters course and turns toward them. The look of visible relief at the sight of her face brings a faint smile to her lips. She has had many dealings with him at her mother's behest. The Queen of the Amazons does not concern herself with the everyday affairs of farmers but does not dismiss them either. Out here, isolated on the peninsula and forgotten by the Colonials, so many things can happen. Often times, the Amazons help is all Demen and his fellow farmers can depend on and she is who they approach when they require that help. It is why she knows many others like Demen are fleeing toward them. No one else will come for them, there is no help save what the Amazons can provide.

Her mother would not refuse this request and neither will she but she dreads the moment that lies ahead. In his eyes, she can see he dreads it as well. Even when the world is falling down around your ears, it is difficult to believe it truly will. Difficult to believe that everything will just...end. In that, death is difficult to comprehend as well. Crossing the veil...unimaginable.

Without word, he passes his daughter over, pushing her into her arms and for the life of her, she cannot recall the child's name. It brings a rush of irrational frustration. She knows this family. She was there the day the girl was born, she knows the child's favorite flower, and that she told her mother she wanted to be Amazon like the women of the city but nevertheless, it eludes her. She's known them for years, for frak's sake, she should know.

Pushing the irrational thought aside, she shares a look with Demen and an understanding passes between them. She hefts the child on her hip and nods. She doesn't say it but he hears it nonetheless. The silent promise that she will take care of them. If nothing else survives of Demen's life, his children will. He has the word of an Amazon to ensure it. It is testament to his faith in that oath that relief settles on his shoulders like a mantle. He kneels then to kiss his son's forehead. The children don't yet understand the import of the moment as they are quiet. They don't realize this is the last time they will see their father in this life.

She remains silent, despite the growing urgency of the moment, determined to give the children the moments she is being denied. Somewhere in Themiscyra her father is dying and her world is dying with him. She will wait these few seconds and gods damn the consequences.

"Listen to the princess," Demon whispers hoarsely to his son. She cannot hear the words over the engines but she sees his lips form the words just the same. "Mind your sister."

Then he is gone, striding through the grass toward the city. He won't look back.

Not even when the little girl in her arms begins to wail and struggle.

There is no time to spare for comfort. Instead, she ignores the scratching and biting of the girl in her arms and retreats into the ship with the boy beside her. The others close the door and she pushes the girl into Maren's arms. The swiftness of the motion seems to stun the child into silence and she knows it is because the girl has never before seen her react in such a manner. The Amazons little Neela has been exposed to have never before been so abrupt, silent, and never before has her beloved princess ignored her. Leda knows by the girl's soft sniffle that now the reality that something is very, very wrong is beginning to sink in.

On the surface she is calm, collected and in charge. Inside where no one can see she is torn. Agonized. The child's terror echoes her own and she thinks that by comforting the girl's she may ease her own. It's a fallacy but a tempting one nonetheless. She doesn't want to be the one the others look to for guidance. She does not want to be the leader here but she is and that can not change. She is the eldest daughter of their Queen, some day she will be their Queen, and she must respond accordingly.

Rather than give in to her fears and run to hold the child again, she puts one foot in front of the other and keeps on until she is again standing at the pilot's station. There, she forces herself to sink down into the chair and place her hands on the controls.

For one eternal moment she lowers her head, drawing in a steadying breath, and mourns the loss. She knows in her soul she will never see this world again and she wishes, with all that she is, that she might have just one moment more. One moment to tell her father goodbye.

But the gods are not so merciful and the Cylons' bombs grow closer still. Whatever time that they did have to them is lost now and she ignores all her pilot's training as she opens up the engines and races skyward. The easy part lies behind them now and she must focus. There is a gauntlet to run to run before they can reach the safety of Galactica's guns. The ships under Amazon control are indeed armed but she knows instinctively without the help of larger vessels, like the famed Battlestar, they will not last more than a breath in such a fight.

A wry smile tugs at her lips, betraying the grim set of her features, as she works the controls. How much such knowledge must burn in her mother's belly she can only imagine…depending on the Colonials for protection is the worst nightmare of any Amazon queen…

If there is but a way around it her mother will find it. Delia, Queen of the Amazons, is nothing if not a resourceful woman and skilled politician. If the Colonies had run rife with prejudice against the Nation she does not wish to think how it will be now. The cloak of civilization the Colonials have long hid themselves in had been ripped away and what lay beneath no one truly wishes to see.

It will be interesting to witness, unpleasant without a doubt, but still...interesting nevertheless.

That, as flimsy as it is, is what she tells herself as the atmosphere falls away and the blackness of space looms. Defensive maneuvers are automatic as she sends the transport hurtling toward the waiting ships and away from the planet, the Cylons, and her father.

Pain lances through her soul at the thought and she whispers a prayer to the Gods for their mercy...

They all need it.

fin


End file.
